Yume no ai
by Destination Chocolate
Summary: When Bakura sees himself in Ryou's dream, he blames it on the festering chinese-takeout his Hikari previously ate. Yet as the dreams continue, Bakura begins to wonder exactly what Ryou's feelings towards him really are. Shounen-aiYaoi. BR
1. Impossible delusions

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-gi-oh. I baked brownies though, and I own them. So ha. 

A/N: This is a Ryou/Bakura shounen-ai/yaoi fic. Don't like, don't read. Or read and be converted. Ryou is the sweet, normal one, while Bakura is the spirit of the 2,000 (or was it 5,000?) year old thief. Chapters will be from Bakura's POV, unless otherwise noted. In case anyone was wondering, the title means, " Dreams of love" or "Love of dreams" I can't remember. O_o. They both work though. 

***

Spirits don't sleep. So it wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary to say I was having a sleepless night. Yet the dark stillness held a restless feeling that gripped my conscious. The quiet seemed strangely oppressive, and seemed to intensify my agitation, instead of relieving it. 

Everything is quieter at night, despite Ryou's dreams. His mind's whimsical visions were only entertaining for so long, and I had long ago stopped relying on them as a source of entertainment. Yet tonight's tedium drove me to seek shelter in his fantasies, in hopes of escaping the suffocating stagnancy of my own mind. 

When I first entered his mind, it seemed as if I had accidentally projected myself out of his body, instead of deeper into his psyche. I found myself in his bedroom, the lights off, his small form safely secured under the coverlet. 

Except for one thing was out of place. Something that could only happen in a dream. I wouldn't let it happen in reality. Someone else was in Ryou's bed with him. The sounds and movements issuing from the under the blankets hinted at something other than sleep. 

I felt an inner stab of anger and jealousy. No one would ever get close enough to even _touch _Ryou, not while I was still around. It wasn't that I cared for him or anything; it was merely that he was _mine. _Like an object, a favorite toy. After all, nothing more could ever come of it. That, and spirits can't love. It's just something we don't do. 

I quickly dismissed my feelings of resentment. After all, this wasn't real. Still, dreams are said to reflect out deepest desires. The thought of Ryou desiring to be with someone else enticed an even stronger feeling of fury from within me. 

I sighed. There was nothing I could do anyway. Besides brutally murder anyone who looked or thought or even got near Ryou without the purest of intentions.

I prepared to exit the dream, perpetual boredom seeming wonderful compared to this torture. Yet my masochistic tendencies got the better of me, and I found myself approaching the two figures, holding my breath as I came nearer. 

Peering behind Ryou's bare shoulder, I choked. 

Ryou's partner was no other than me. Me with a body, a hot, naked, sweaty, body, doing things to Ryou that Grandma wouldn't be proud of. What's more, he was enjoying it, his soft gasps and moans hitting notes that sang of immeasurable pleasure. I stood aghast, wondering exactly how long that leftover Chinese-takeout Ryou had eaten last night had been sitting in the fridge. 

At this moment however, a sharp beeping sent me hurtling back into my soul room. Damn alarm clock. Ryou, now awake, was flushed pink and covered in sweat, panting lightly.

I mentally growled. As much as I was enjoying this display, I knew I'd never be able to get these results from my darling Hikari. I didn't have the guts. No pun intended. 

I felt his mind knock gently on my soul room door. I feigned "sleep", not wanting him to know I'd intruded on his private fantasy. I'd never gotten around to telling him I didn't sleep, that there was never a time I wasn't alert and monitoring his actions. I found out a lot more that way.

"Good morning," he called in that sweet husky voice of his, doing his pathetic best to shield the memory of his dream from my probing thoughts. As he opened the door, I felt his need sweep over me like a tidal wave, filling the corners of my soul room with liquid lust. I pretended not to notice, keeping my face impassive.

"What do you want?" I asked, feeling his hungry eyes upon my back, tracing the contours of my body. 

"I just thought I'd wake you up this morning" he stated after a short hesitation. Bullshit. He'd never dare risking the wrath of his murderous Yami 'just because'. Nevertheless, I played along with his lie, hoping to unearth his true motive. 

"Any particular reason?" I asked, raising my eyebrows in the manner of someone who is merely asking for the sake of asking the question, not for the answer. His cheeks quickly changed from a pale cream color to a deep maroon. Aah. So that was it. 

"It's just that…you see…oh, never mind" he finished lamely. "Sorry to disturb you," he said before quickly bowing and making his way hastily out of the room.

His response confused me. I knew it must have something to do with the dream, thus the blush, but couldn't pinpoint what I thought he might have come in to…do. No. That couldn't be it. Even in this spirit form, we couldn't touch, and certainly couldn't do _that. _Then what could it have been?

My mind now overrun with answerless questions, I turned over. Life had just suddenly got very interesting.

***

A/N: Whew! Another fic with an actual plot! What happened to random humor? I think I might have accidentally sat on my humor muses, cause all I can think up right now is philosophical crap. And angst. Damn you angst! *shakes fist* Anyway, hope you enjoyed. I'll update soon, if people like it. 


	2. To make him smile

A/N: Whew. Another chapter written. And posted. Whee. Please enjoy 

***

I decided not to ask Ryou about it. The mere idea of confronting him bothered and frightened me in ways I found hard to explain. I kept my inquisitions at bay, playing along with his façade of innocence. Maybe if I didn't remind him, he'd forget, and stop nursing his impossible delusions.

Yet the dreams continued. Though I knew they had to stop, one fast growing part of me desperately wanted them to go on. They held a perverse enjoyment that was borne of both the goings-on in Ryou's dream, and the joy I found in watching myself suffer. Because I do. Enjoy my own pain I mean. And no pain was worse than watching Ryou being given such unbridled pleasure from a stranger. 

After all, the boy, though he may have looked like me, was not me. Merely a figment of my Hikari's imagination. 

Yet it was even more hurtful to know I would never be able to take his place. And I knew I couldn't take much more of this pain. No matter how much it satisfied my own need for self torture. 

In spite of my inner turmoil, I was still able to enjoy the more obvious parts of the dream. Watching "me" inside him, while he writhed underneath me, begging for more, his inaudible moans interspersed with desperate calls of my name. _Bakura-sama_ had never sounded so beautiful, the way it slunk around the curve of his tongue, dancing it's way past his soft, delicate lips, only to be lost in the creak of bedsprings. 

And I would kiss his mercifully until he bled, following with the innocent intent of licking the away the blood, only to let my tongue take me where it pleased. 

He couldn't get enough, and at times I wondered how many wet dreams one could have until it could be categorized some kind of disorder. 

The greatest pleasure came from his mental feeling of satisfaction when waking, the way he would sit in bed long after he had awakened, reliving his dream with such abandon he sometimes forgot to shield his thoughts from me. Not that his pathetic efforts succeeded anyway. 

When he did forget, a cloud of shame would momentarily fill his emotional field. His reverie broken, he would check on me in my soul room with the innocent intent of "waking me", when in truth he wanted to check if he had been caught. 

Instead of increasing his embarrassment by catching him in the act, I felt myself putting on the best act of my life. I made sure he always found me asleep or otherwise occupied, and acted with great annoyance when I was, "disturbed". Convinced I was naïve regarding his malignant actions, his wave of guilt would lift, returning him to his usual state of blissful oblivion. 

The most disturbing thing was, no matter how much I told myself I did it for the sense of fulfillment I got from watching myself doing naughty things to Ryou, in truth I did it because it made him happy. 

Happy. The way his eyes would light up in secret triumph, a blush of clandestine accomplishment creeping to his cheeks as he apologized for bothering me. I'd watch as he returned to his own body, smiling that sweet smile and hugging his pillow. 

I enjoyed this display of happiness more than anything I'd ever known. This confused me to know end, often ruining the moment by sending me into a spiral of questions devoid of answers. But even my own puzzlement could not detour me from making him smile. 

***

A/N. Smiles are fun ^_^. It's really early in the morning *yawn*. Hope ya'll enjoyed. I'll update as soon as possible… possible being once I get my muses rears in gear. Ooh! Today's my Mom's birthday. I'm not sure how happy she'd be to have a yaoi fanficiton dedicated to her though… maybe a nice card. 


	3. Only in his dreams

A/N: Heh… I really haven't updated this in a while. BE WARNED; I like to start things, but hate finishing them. I have a Kurama plushie I started weeks ago. I finished the body in one day, yet it remains a featureless (naked *giggles*) and bald blob! 

*ahem* On with le story!

***

No matter how much I enjoyed the indulgence, I knew I had to stop the dreams. Because there was no doubt they were driving me farther across the brink of insanity that even I dared to tread.

It was obvious why I wanted the Ryou's delusions to continue. Because I shared his delusion. Yet I knew they were delusions, fantasies that would never enter reality. 

I have no body, my physical existence only partially possible because I share Ryou's. I hate sharing. It frustrates me enough having to share this world with the millions of unworthy mortals that inhabit it. You can imagine my joy discovering I'd be sharing the next eighty years or so in close quarters with one of them. 

I still loathe it. But now, it's for another reason.

I don't think Ryou is weak anymore. Anyone who can put up with me this long and not be driven to suicide or bitterness either has a will of iron or a heart of gold. 

Ryou surpasses them on both accounts. Iron can be bent, and gold is only precious when in short supply. Yet he survives with a kind stubbornness I've never held witness to before.

Ryou not only survives, he lives. I mean really lives. He still makes honor roll, has friends, and despite his shortcomings, refuses to succumb to self-pity. Though, in truth, he has every reason to pity his situation.

For a while, I thought he might be able to resort to a semi-normal life, despite my scant intrusions, and focus on the joy around him that is life. 

Like girls. He could have almost anyone, if he really wanted to. Instead, he bottles up his charms as much as possible, almost to the point of ignoring the opposite sex. 

These dreams eradicated any hopes I ever had of him living a normal life. Any hopes of him being truly happy. 

Happiness, after all, is merely having one's expectations met. And his expectations were so far past reality, he might as well take a skiing trip to hell before he ever has a chance of being with me like that. Only in his dreams.

***

A/N: Yes. I know. "This was a chapter of philosophical crap!" you will say. "Aak!" I will scream, and hide under the covers. I promise I'll work on the plot more latter! I need time. Just a little…more… time… 


	4. Glass angel

A/N: … I have nothing to say. Except, " **I am a nobody. Nobody is perfect, therefore I am perfect." **I don't own that quote, by the way. Got it at mutedfaith.com.

Yes… that was random. Just read the fic!

***

Yet I was hesitant to shatter this perfect illusion. It was always one more day until I would tell him I'd known all along. Tomorrow. It was always tomorrow. 

But tomorrow never comes. 

Nevertheless, he was happy. That was barely, yet just enough, to keep me from terminating this beautiful façade.

Until the day he cried.

Once again, he'd been lazy and neglectful, forgetting to put up his mental shields while reminiscing about his sweet, sweet fantasy. Once again, I'd played ignorant, anything to feel his happiness, to see his smile again.

Yet this time, it didn't come. Instead, a feeling of regret, sadness, and emptiness filled his soul as he exited, one again taking control of his body. There was no smile. He only blinked. Once. And as he walked out of the room, I saw a small glimmer fall onto his outstretched hand. A single tear. 

Ever seen a baby die? The way they retain their look of unfailing truth in their dying eyes, until oblivion claims their soul?

I have. I thought it was the worst thing I'd ever experience in my life.

Yet death seemed a trivial punishment in comparison to what Ryou was experiencing. 

Does that seem heartless? That I would compare the death of a child to a broken heart and claim the lifeless kid got the better deal? Death brings the ultimate release. A broken heart brings nothing but ultimate grief. 

Besides, I've been called heartless before. And much worse.

Through our soul link, I could feel his heart shatter. Like a glass angel on concrete. Dropped from a thirty-story building. 

I cursed myself for ever letting it drop.

I knew it was somehow my fault. At the same time, I had no clue as to why.

Hadn't I played along perfectly? Or had he somehow seen past my façade?

Even if he had, why would it upset him so. Was he really as fragile as to be reduced to tears the minute he thought I knew his shameful secret? 

If so, then he truly was weak.

I had no time for weaklings.

Yet something inside me knew that couldn't possibly be the reason for his sudden distress. I had seen how he handled life; hell, I'd had a front row seat as well as a backstage pass for the past few years. I knew he'd never break down over something as trivial as embarrassment.

Yet the fact remained, his heart was broken.

I had no idea why.

I was powerless.

So I stood back and watched as the one person I had begun to care about succumbed to a fate worse then death.

Care?

***

A/N: Wow. That took a relatively short about of time. w00t! 

By the way, what does "w00t" mean? I've been wondering for a really long time. 


	5. Sunshine

A/N: This chapter is from Ryou's POV. Sorry bout the slow updates ^_^.

***

Love is sunshine. 

It brings warmth to whomever it touches, filling their heart with a soft glow of affection.

Both breed life. Sunshine, in the flowers that literally feed of its energy, and love, in the way it inspires and spurs us even in our darkest hours.

It was sufficient to say that Bakura was my sun. 

I was standing in the shade.

I knew, I sensed his love waiting somewhere, waiting. The thought of it made me smile, hell, more than smile, it gave me a reason to live. 

Yet I never experienced it. 

Strangely enough, our shared body had nothing to do with it. 

When most people think of love, they associate it with kissing, cuddling, and most often, sex. What they are actually referring to is kissing, cuddling, and sex. Love is a completely different thing.

No matter how I classified it, love was something I most certainly wasn't receiving from Bakura. The emotion simply wasn't there. 

I didn't try and delude myself into thinking he was merely shy. Bakura is not shy. He acts on his emotions, sometimes to the point of being hurtful. Not that he cares. That's the other thing. Along with love, he seems to lack compassion.

Why do I love him, you ask? 

Perhaps I'm insane. That seems to be a regular explanation these days. Insanity. 

Whatever my mental state, the fact was, I loved him. It was terrible not knowing whether or not he felt the same. Yet I'd chosen uncertainty over the possibility of rejection. 

As I denied my own emotions, I was slowly able to banish them to the fringes of my mind. Or so I thought. 

Then the dreams began.

In truth, they were only a small part of what I wanted from Bakura. Love was much more important than sex could every be. It was the way he treated me in them that brought me so much joy.

The look in his eyes as he leaned down to kiss me, the respect, awe, and deep love he sent my way. In reality he'd only shot me a scant few looks of scorn, if he looked or paid attention to me at all. 

He was so gentle, so caring. That's the difference between making love and fucking. Making love is exactly what it sounds like. Fucking lacks respect, lacks love, lacks all emotion, and is merely physical gratification. Not that the physical gratification wasn't wonderful in itself. 

My dreams became my escape from the shade. Like a dying flower, I began to believe that the artificial light really was from my beautiful sun. When I'd wake up I'd pretend that I was really dreaming then, and it was all a terrible nightmare. That in reality Bakura loved me and was waiting for me to close my eyes and escape to our private dreamland. 

Night after night I'd seep myself in his faux adoration, always blocking the dream from memory one I'd awakened. I didn't want to find out what Bakura would say if he knew about my secret wish for sunshine.

One morning, I forgot.

Laying in bed, reveling in the wonderful feeling of being loved, I abandoned my responsibility, not able to let go of the wonderful feeling. That's when I felt Bakura's mind link skim along mine. 

I quickly closed it, hiding my secret from his probing, and quickly entered his soul room. 

He was faking sleep. My dream had probably awakened him, he just had his reasons for wanting me to not know he'd been spying. 

"Good morning," I called, hoping to distract him at least temporarily while I thought of an excuse. While my brain's wheels turned, I couldn't help noticing how beautiful Bakura looked, his bare back exposed for my eyes. 

He didn't seem to notice. "What do you want?" came his cordial reply. 

"I…" I was stuck, " I thought I'd wake you up this morning". He wasn't buying it. Maybe if I got out quick enough, he'd forget.

"Any particular reason?" he inquired innocently, just trying to be annoying. Little did he know how close he was. The closeness was making me nervous. I felt myself blushing. 

I searched my brain for lies I knew I couldn't momentarily conjure. I stuttered a few words, then quickly exited, hoping he would leave the subject alone. 

To my great surprise, he did. I began finding myself forgetting to shield myself from his mind more and more often, yet he never questioned me in any way. 

Though I knew I should be grateful for his naivety, I began wanting him to discover my sweet secret.

In my fantasy, he'd learn, forgive me, and wisk me off into the sunset and love me 'till the day we passed into the afterlife. 

In reality, he'd probably get angry, then use his knowledge of my emotions to his advantage. He is, after all, a thief. Thieves never let anything go to waste.

Yet whatever punishment he would inflict on me began to seem better verses the slow torture the secret was putting me through. It was tearing me from the inside out, straddling reality as well as my fantasy. 

I was getting desperate. A few times I even sent a small part of it across our soul link. He never said a word. 

I was being driven insane by it. The dream which once held such joy now brought pain, as I saw my wish flaunted before my eyes, teasing me. 

How could he not know? That question plagued me incessantly. The only possible answer I could come up with was that he knew, he just enjoyed my pain. Or he didn't think I was even worth his time to torture. 

In a last attempt, I kept our soul link open during the entire dream, begging for him to interrupt, to do anything that would acknowledge my presence. 

Entering his soul room, he played his same game of indifference. 

Hopelessness ran rampant through my veins. So that was it. He'd never love me, never mind recognize I even existed. Life just wasn't worth living.

A single tear escaped my eye as I fled the room.

***

A/N: Aaack! That was long! Reviews are my sunshine! I'm a little flower! Feed me!


	6. I'll do my crying in the rain

A/N: Well… another chapter. I was in a really bad mood today, and almost wrote a terrible angst chapter without a happy ending. Luckily, my friend called and I jumped over the fence into her backyard and we had a jolly old time, and when I came back, the world seemed like a better place ^_^.

By the way, I've gotten some feedback that Bakura and Ryou are extremely OOC. If this bothers you, think of them as Bob and Rod… I mean, Rob… *giggle* Rod…hehe. Bob is Rob's evil friend from the decadian mouse trap, which Rob wears on his nose. Bob is actually the trapped spirit of an ancient tomb robber from Antarctica, and blah blah blah blah…

***

I love it when it rains.

Why?

Ever notice how tears are hard to distinguish from raindrops when on someone's cheeks? 

I've never been a crier. There's just something about having ones heart slowly ripped from the inside out that makes me want to sob. Call me crazy. 

It was raining when I went outside, ready to walk to school. The blank, gray clouds gave no mercy, unleashing a torrential downpour on Domino. Soon, the streets became slick and dark, the gutters overflowing. 

Inside, I felt Bakura's mood become questioning. '_Probably wondering why it's so damn cold'_ I thought with a wet sigh, my self pity kicking in. 

Shaking my head, I put on my best smile, though I knew no one was watching. I wouldn't be helping anything by making the world feel sorry for me. Besides, I had a math test. I had to concentrate, I didn't want my grades slipping.

As if on autopilot, my mind began reciting the formulas, bravely struggling to distract me from predicament.

My thoughts inevitably wandered back to Bakura. 

I didn't love him. I never did. It was merely an infatuation, like the way a child regards a favorite toy. I'd lost my toy, and was crying over it. Like a child. I really was weak.

Even he thought so.

Not that it mattered. I didn't love him. 

_'I don't love him, I don't love him, I don't love him…' _I repeated my mantra until the school gates came into view. 

It was just then I noticed the rain had stopped. I also realized I was completely soaked. 

Without realizing it, I began to laugh. Anyone watching would have thought I was crazy. Here I was, my heart aching from rejection, and I was worrying about the state of my clothes and hair. I laughed until my sides ached and tears of mirth came to my eyes.

When I finally stopped, opening my eyes, the world seemed brighter. Not just because the clouds had begun to clear. It was the kind of bright that comes from within you, the kind that no amount of photons could every possibly replicate. 

Lost in the rhythmic sound of my shoes squishing on the pavement, I hastened up the stone steps to the main doors. 

I pushed Bakura out of my mind. Not in a literal sense, of course. _'I don't love him'_ I whispered, this time with confidence.

Yet before my shoes squished on the floor for the second time, I had already admitted to myself that it was a lie.

~Bakura's POV~

My Hikari really can be confusing. 

First he's crying, then he's suddenly full of this new jubilant hope. What the fuck?

His good mood continued throughout the day, excluding the short period of time when he took his math test. Why they expect teenagers to memorize this shit is beyond me. Once he finished it, his air of cheerfulness returned.

As happy as I was that he had returned from the brink of despair, his mood swing disturbed me. 

I'd seen something like it once in Egypt. A woman's son was crushed under the wheel of a speeding chariot, and by the time she was alerted and brought to him, life had already left him. 

At once, grief overtook her, and she began wailing and pulling her hair. Yet later, she remarked on how ironic it was that though she was heartbroken that her son had died, all she could think about was the fact that in her mourning, she had ripped out some of her hair.

Suddenly, she began laughing. Not a normal, hearty laugh either. She clutched her stomach and stomped her feet, her breath coming in gasps as she struggled for air. After her fit of laughter, the mother donned a vaguely cheerful temperament. 

Everyone praised her for taking it so well. I thought she was insane.

A year later, she committed suicide with the knife her son had whittled for her many years ago as a birthday present. 

The next few days were hell. I watched Ryou carefully, not daring to let my Hikari meet the woman's same demise. Yet his joviality showed no sign of relenting. 

Again, I cursed my lack of a body. If he did go suicidal on me, my only hope was to talk him through it, and hope he wasn't as stupid as to waste his precious life over me.

I wasn't worth it. 

***

A/N: You like? You hate? Well tell me! Nothing will get fixed if you don't tell me it's bad!

My legs went numb while writing this… 

By the way, all readers of my fic, " Maybe I love you", please have patience. I'm trying desperately to finish this story before I continue on any other projects, but this fic may take a while to finish o_O. In the meantime, I'll update maybe once a week. Yume no Ai is my first priority right now. 

If you haven't checked out, "Maybe I love you," then please do! But review this first! Exclamation points are everywhere! 


	7. Love, of course

A/N: Aak! I've becoming what I formerly despised! An author who updates once a millennium. I'm a terrible person *cries*.

On the other hand, many of my favorite authors haven't updated in MONTHS. I don't feel so evil anymore ^_^. Mmmm… more cookies. And Darren Hayes music. Life is good. 

***

~Bakura's POV~

This was so fucked up. I wasn't just referring to my Hikari's lack of sanity.

It was fucked up because I realized I actually cared. 

Normally, mortals in pain made me laugh. Yet Ryou's predicament had momentarily banished my sadistic tendencies. More like Ryou and I's predicament.

Yes, Ryou and I's. This wasn't just his problem anymore. I fucking care for him, I want him to be happy, I might even fucking love him. I came to terms with it a while ago, now suck it up and be a little more accepting. 

It was also fucked up that he wasn't fucking willing to do anything about it. If I ever lusted after someone that much, I'd have told them by now. Actually, I probably just would have molested them and let them draw their own conclusions. 

So why hadn't I paid Ryou the same courtesy? 

This wasn't lust. I'd learned long ago the difference between lust and love. Love was a useless emotion that often inflicted others, and was good for blackmail. Love, though not a weakness, created weakness. It was a rope made of silk. Strong when used as a ladder to climb through open windows, yet amazingly delicate when it came in contact with a knife. 

Lust was random and raw. It cared for no one, and only sought to please itself. Funny that I would bare witness to such a selfish emotion in the most selfless person I knew. 

Yet Ryou hadn't been acting lust-broken. More like heart-broken. Though lust may produce tears of frustration, I'd never seen them accompanied with such a feeling of despair. Ryou's desperate anguish had led me to believe that perhaps lust wasn't the totality of his feelings towards me. Or maybe it was wishful thinking. 

Despite the overwhelming evidence against me, I couldn't help but hope he would be satisfied with something other than my body. I mean, it wasn't like he was dreaming about romantic walks in the park or declarations of love. The widow to his innermost desire showed sex. Sex with me, but still sex. And we all know by now I can never give that to him, thanks to our shared body.

Yet people don't cry from sexual frustration. Well, some do. Ryou didn't seem the type. 

The more I thought about my "evidence," the more I began to convince myself that Ryou hadn't fallen in lust, but in love. Every time I ran it the tentative hypothesis through my head, my hope grew stronger.

It was this same slender hope that would guide my actions later, when I made him my offer.

What was I offering?

Love, of course.

~Ryou's POV~

I'm a terrible liar. To this date, I can't think of anyone I've successfully deceived with my pitiful fibs. 

You can imagine my success when it came to lying to myself.

A mere two days had passed before I abandoned my dishonest excuses. Of course I loved him. Of course I need him. I don't know if I'd ever needed anything more in my empty life.

That's what my life was without him, empty. Peaceful, ordered, and structured, like a building. But buildings are lifeless, loveless, gray, and cold. 

Bakura upsets things. He turns everything inside out and upside down, spreading chaos. He also upsets things literally. Especially people. Like policemen. Which reminds me, I need to come up with the money to pay for a new squad-car. 

Despite it's shortcomings, I love his chaos. Peace and quiet could never compare. And I don't plan to give them a chance to. 

I need that chaos back in my life. The feeling of delightful pandemonium that ensues when he enters my mind with another crazy plan to set fire to the neighbors cat or put cheese-whiz in Yugi's underwear. 

He probably wasn't even talking to me when smirking over his intended caper. I was never worth a second glance, unless it was to demand where the fuck I'd hid the cheese-whiz. 

Even now he'd paid me no heed. I suppose years of forced interaction with someone twenty-four seven can cause you to get bored with them. 

I say, " I suppose," because I never had. 

My appreciation only increased for him as time went on. Despite the sacrifices I needed to make for him. 

Today, I was planning my ultimate sacrifice. 

No, not suicide. That never seems to solve anything. Though that would no doubt amuse him to no end, even as his soul was sucked into the afterlife. Or the shadow realm. Depending. 

Instead, I'd cross my fingers and hope I was good enough. That what I offered him was good enough. Though I doubt a offering of commitment that didn't include sex would please Bakura much.

What kind of commitment? 

Love, of course.

***

A/N: The ending for both of them used to be, "Love, actually," but I didn't want people thinking I was trying to insert subtle subliminal pop-culture references into my fics to make them more popular.

No…. not at all…

There is one thing I want you to do for me. What is it?

Review, of course.


	8. Love is unpredictable

A/N: Eep. Please, I need a beta reader. Any volunteers? 

Heh, I got the "squaring two" idea from the book Ender's shadow by Orson Scott Card. It actually works really well! If you can remember to do it while in a fit of rage. Lovely book. I don't own it though.

Re-written 11-18-03. See authors note at the bottom.

***

~Ryou's POV~

Sitting on my bed, I sighed, clinging to what courage I could muster. I was going to tell him. I was going to tell him.

The room faded as I entered my soul room…

Then came into brilliant focus as I returned to my body. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. Everything would be easier if I kept it secret. I could survive, I could move on. I could, and I would.

Did I mention I'm a terrible liar? 

Admitting defeat, I let the room lose it's definition once again, as my mind relinquished control of my body, slipping into Bakura's soul room.

The first thing I noticed was the complete absence of his normal aura. Normally, it permeated the small space to the point I was swimming in it, but tonight, it was gone. Small traces could be detected clinging to his bed's sheets and the corners of the room, but they were growing cold, losing their potent essence. 

Suddenly, the void was filled with the uniquely essential Bakura-ness. I spun around, to find him poking his head through the soul room door. Our eyes met for a brief second, before I broke the contact, blushing at being caught snooping around his soul-space. 

Breaking my own trance, I remembered my purpose. I was here, and so was he. The only thing missing was the words I had come to say. Yet the silence that filled the air was tense, and I was hesitant to break it. Like releasing a stretched rubber band. Who knows what the release of tautness would lead to? 

Before I could utter a word, Bakura closed the gap between us, his mouth closing over mine.

~Bakura's POV~

You'd think, as the reincarnation of a man whose life relied on quick decision that I'd have gotten out of the habit of indecisiveness. Yet I'd spent the past hour in suspended contemplation, pacing my soul room as thoughts chased their way through my conscience. 

_Since when was the King of Thieves a coward? _ A select part of my mind accused, the rhetorical question hitting a sensitive nerve. 

_I'm no longer the King of Thieves_, I retorted, half wondering since when I'd developed a split personality. _I am Ryou Bakura no Yami. _

Yet the former allegation still plagued me. I was being a coward, King of Thieves or not. _Yet a wise man once said, "those who flee and run away live to fight another day," _my cowardice reasoned. Besides, there would always be, "later". Yes, I'd tell him later. 

Later arrived with a jolt as I felt my Hikari begin to enter the Millenium Ring. Burying my doubts, I ran across the hall, into his soul room. __

_Another wise man once said, "There's no time like the present". _Taking the present, as well as my future in hand, I opened his soul room door, ready to spill my heart's offerings at the feet of my Hikari. 

My _absent_ Hikari. 

Ryou's soul room was empty. A small trace of aura lingered where his soul had once stood, but it was fading fast. He was gone. 

I growled, half out of frustration, half out of relief. Frustration because I didn't get the chance to tell him. Relief because I didn't get the chance to tell him. I lingered in Ryou's soul-space, longingly gazing at the cloud of aura that was all that remained of Ryou's former presence. Closing my eyes, I stepped forward into it, engulfed by the warmth that was his soul's paw print. 

My reverie was broken as our mind link quivered once again, Ryou entering our shared soul-space once again. Yet this time, he was going into _my _room.

What he'd be doing in there, I had no idea. Luckily, I had no time for ideas at the moment. All that mattered was that I got my ass out of his room and over to Ryou. 

Poking my head in, I glimpsed his back, before he spun around quickly, trademark white hair tossed back by the action. He appeared mildly disheveled, a blush hovering on the corners of his cheeks as he spotted me. His eyes met mine for a moment, then his blush deepened. 

What was with teenagers and their blushing? Blood seemed to rush quite quickly at that age, forever fleeing either to the face, or other, more private areas at a moment's notice. 

This was my chance. I was going to be mature for once in my life and tell the truth. This was an important moment. Pity that tendency I have to be led around by my dick.

Without thinking, I shortened the gap between us, until the only distance lay between our toes. The rest of my body was pressed tightly against his. The most noticeable part being my mouth.

I can be quite eloquent when I want to be. In my time, I've convinced rival thief lords to kill each other, and on numerous occasions have talked my way out of the Pharaoh's dungeon. 

This most definitely wasn't one of those times.

~Ryou's POV~

I involuntarily gasped, as Bakura's spirit essence filled the atmosphere. After all, we weren't' technically touching. The feeling was merely an exchange of emotion conveyed by our souls. I didn't feel his mouth on me, as I had in my dreams. That, after all, was impossible. I merely felt his desire engulf my senses.

That being said, I was very confused. I stepped back, out of his tangible-emotion range. His fingers reached up towards me delicately, questioning filling his eyes. I knew my reactions well enough to know my eyes most likely held the same puzzled expression.

Determined to fulfill my purpose, I made sure I was the first one to speak. 

"What was that for?" 

~Bakura's POV~

"What was that for?" he asked. The way he said it, it sounded more like an accusation than a question.

"For being so goddamn gorgeous," came my eloquent reply. Ouch. That didn't sound right. I was used to speaking in terms of lust, not love, but pillow talk would get me nowhere. 

His eyes flashed angrily at my reply, his fists clenching as his jaw tightened. _Stupid Bakura! _

"Is that it?" He answered. "Because you like the way I look?" Another accusation. Now my temper began to get the better of me. I began slowly squaring two in my mind, trying to get my mind off my injured pride. _'2, 4, 8, 16, 32, 64,' _it went, desperately trying to free me from my ego's clutch. 

"Does it matter?" Wow. I didn't lose my silver-tongue in all those years of being trapped in the Millennium Ring. No… not at all. 

_'128, 256, 512…'_

"Of course it matters!" he said, disbelief bordering on fury filling his voice. "It matters because…because you can kiss someone even if you don't love them," As if horrified by his own words, his hands moved to cover his mouth. Yet fury filled his eyes once again, and he threw them down.

_'1024, 2048, 4096…'_

"It matters because you're using me. You enjoy it, don't you?" His accusations hurt more then if he had slapped me in the face. His voice trembled with hatred, trembling with a stubbornness I would have otherwise found hilarious, had I not been at the receiving end of it. 

_'8192, 16384, 32768…'_

"…enjoying seeing me live out my fantasies, relishing the pain I feel…" He had it all wrong. 'No, no, Ryou, it's not at all like that,' I wanted to say. Yet despite my knowledge of his misunderstanding, I felt myself growing angry at his distrust of me. How could he automatically assume I hated him so? Everything would be alright once I cleared things up. I'd just let him vent, then we'd work it out.

"… because it's obvious that we can truly never be together like that."

What the fuck. 

I snapped. He hadn't been talking about love after all. "Be together" he'd said. He thought I had been gloating about our lack of separate bodies? All he really had wanted was sex. I understood now. Perfectly. 

No wonder he'd been angry about the kiss. "You can kiss someone even if you don't love them," he'd said. He was saying he didn't love me, but he still thought we could by physical, because kissing and whatnot could be done, even if you didn't love someone. And now he was frustrated because our separate bodies limited our physical contact to none. 

Ignoring the urge to convey my wounded feelings, I put on my best smirk and acted like his words hadn't affected me at all.

"Oh, I see now. Thanks for clearing that up," I said, crossing my arms over my chest in a manner than expressed the finality of the statement. I moved to the side, presenting him with the doorframe. "If you'll excuse me, I have evil to plot," I said with what I hoped was a convincing growl. 

"But… Yami and Yugi worked it out," he began. Stubborn boy. 

He must have been referring to Yami's "separation" from his host. The ritual has almost cast his soul into oblivion, yet he had survived, his reward being a lifetime of physical contact with his beloved Hikari. 

That proved it. Ryou wanted some**body**, not some**one**, to be with. Perfect.

"I am not the Pharaoh. It's not my fault if he's foolish enough to keep company with mortals."

Ryou seemed on the verge of tears. _'Try that on your next boyfriend, see if that gets you laid'_ I wanted to say, but refrained from it. Mostly because it might work. The thought of Ryou having a boyfriend was too much to bear on top of all this. 

My Hikari nodded, his image slowly fading. 

"Good riddance," I said, and slammed my soul room door. 

***

A/N: Eep! Please don't hurt me. I hate being threatened. I'll make everything better, really!

I'm surprised no one understood the, "pop-cultural thingie" I talked about in the last chapter. I was referring to the movie that just came out, "Love, actually". Sorry that no one got it. 

Before you review (because you know you want to!) please read the, "In regards to reviews" portion of my bio. Not that I don't enjoy mindless praise, mind you. It just won't help me at all in the long run. Or the short run. Why am I talking about running?

*Big authors rant*: Thank you so much VampssAmby10210 for giving me some negative-feedback. When I read the story again, I said to myself, "Self, Bakura is OOC." So I rewrote the end of the chapter. I may have only succeeded in making it worse, but I tried. Bakura seems more likely to jump to conclusions and lose him temper than to chicken out over something that important. 

Thanks everyone else who reviewed as well.

Oh, and whoever gets the 120th review gets a small part in my story. The 120th review being the review after Mavelus's. I'll find a way to put you in my story! It'll only be brief, but you're still in there. I'll contact you if you won, or if I have no way of contacting you, I'll move on to the next person. The more helpful the review is, the larger the part you get! Or if you don't want a part…well, that's ok too. 

Feedback! I need feeback!


	9. What really matters

**A/N: Yes, yes, I know, it took waaaay to long for me to update. However, this chapter has been Beta-d! By the wonderful, the spectacular, the uber-shibby ImmortalChaos! *Wraps arms around protectively* But she's MINE! All mine! Well, I suppose I'll have to share with her family, friends, and such… *curses*.**

**Well, whether I have to share or not, this chapter is dedicated to her. Because she rocks! Urg, some of the Italics don't show up (*shakes fist at ff.net*) but you'll just have to bear with me. Eh, is that the right bear? Or is it bare…?**

**Ooh! My word count before I posted this used to be "6699". Now it's probably some random number again. *Curses*. Oh well. Please enjoy. **

***

When Ryou ran out of the house, he wasn't really heading in any particular direction. Not that it mattered; it's hard to run from someone who lives in your head, after all. 

Yet he had also left the Ring at home, hoping that the separation would take him out of range of Bakura and his shared mind link. __

_'Without the Ring's power, our mind link won't work. And if I can't hear him, he can't control me.' _With that thought driving him, Ryou found himself trying to put as much distance between himself and the Egyptian artifact as his tired legs could manage. Bakura's presence had all but disappeared from Ryou's mind as the gap between them removed the Ring's power. 

As their mind link dissipated, Ryou found himself completely alone in his own mind. Without the other's thoughts to distract him, he hoped to regain control of his rampant emotions. His Yami was the cause of his distress; wouldn't escaping Bakura at least lessen the grief within his heart?

Yet his sadness had not diminished with Bakura's absence. In fact, the feeling of anguish seemed to have increased. Even without his counterpart's attendance, Ryou still felt as if the spirit held authority over his emotions and actions. 

_'Even after the puppet's strings are cut, he still follows the puppeteer's commands_._'_ The silver haired boy thought grimly.

_"I ran to escape my Yami," _continued he with a sigh, _"Yet Bakura's memory affects me more than his actual presence did. He can control me even when he's not with me." _Determined to break the Spirit's control, Ryou forced Bakura's memory from his mind. He refused to let his Yami, someone who found his pain amusing, have the pleasure of reducing him to tears.

It was 10 o'clock, and a snowstorm was raging. Most shops had closed for the night, and offered no refuge to the distraught boy. Despite his need to escape his Item's pull, the night was cold, and for a short moment, Ryou pondered going back home. Yet back home meant being in range of his Spirit's scorn and manipulation, which seemed a much more terrible fate then a bit of cold. 

Instead, he quickened his pace; glad at least that he had remembered his large jacket. Otherwise the elements would have forced him home, despite his fears of Bakura's sadistic mind. He wanted to find solitude, not death, in the cold night. 

The sound of many voices reached Ryou's ears, even before his eyes could trace the noise to its source. He hurried through the storm, until he sighted lights from said source, a small (yet apparently full) building. 

A small sign in the window proclaimed it 'Open'. That was all Ryou needed to know. 

Upon entering, Ryou was given the impression that this was not the type of place he'd visit if a storm and his pride hadn't driven him there. Table upon table was filled with loud men, their women, and- of course -their liquor of choice. Not wanting to join the boisterous crowd, Ryou headed towards the fairly empty bar. 

"What can I get for you Dearie?" Asked a small, round woman in an apron, smiling a buck-toothed smile that made Ryou feel oddly welcome. "You don't seem like the type to go for booze; how 'bout a nice tea instead?"

"Yes, that would be wonderful," said the grateful boy, sliding onto an empty wooden stool. Within seconds a steaming mug of orange liquid was brought his way.

"Chai, Sweetie," she answered before he could even open his mouth to ask. "Seems to be popular with you young people these days." Ryou took a cautious sip. It tasted… odd. Like pumpkin pie in a cup. Normally Ryou didn't care much for pie of any sort, but he was freezing, and the liquid warmed his mouth, his hands, and his insides. That, and he didn't think he had the courage to send it back. He nodded and smiled.

"Now be a good girl and drink it up. We wouldn't want you catching your death of cold, now would we?"

Ryou almost spat out his chai. The woman thought he was a girl!?!

Though he supposed he might look faintly feminine. His overlarge coat obstructed any view of his body's form, and the cold had no doubt reddened his cheeks and lips. Not to mention his long hair and high voice. Anyone could have made the mistake. He didn't feel like correcting her. He was too tired.

The mention of his own fatigue brought to mind the reason he was there. Bakura. The Spirit's suppressed memory flooded back to the Ryou's unwilling mind. 

_'So much for escaping." _He thought, then gave up. Bakura would always have control of him, whether he liked it or not. _'It's very easy to let those who love control you. Even if you know they don't love you back. And Bakura made that point very clear.' _ Against his will, tears formed in the corners of Ryou's eyes as he bit his lower lip to stop it from trembling.

"Oh you poor Baby, what's wrong?" cried the rotund woman who had just served him his drink. "You can tell me. That's what I'm here for." She said, flashing him her smile again. 

"Oh, boys are just so difficult sometimes!" he choked out, frowning slightly at his own response. He was also a boy, after all. 

"You're telling me," the older woman replied with a roll of her eyes. 

"They're so confusing," continued Ryou, "They use you and control you until you feel like some kind of toy…" he stopped, expecting the woman to be ignoring him. Instead, she had taken up the position opposite him and was wiping off at the bar's surface with a damp rag, nodding for him to go on. 

"See…" he began, pausing as he tried to phrase the story in a way that made sense. "There's this guy. And I really like him. And I told him." Ryou said with a blush, noting how pathetic he sounded.

His one-woman audience nodded thoughtfully.

"Usually that's the perfect approach. Men like straightforward girls who speak their mind and don't beat around the bush. He rejected you though?" she asked. Ryou nodded his affirmative, forcing the woman to gnaw her lip in thought. 

"Did you actually ask him if he loved you?" she asked. 

"Not really," said Ryou, surprised. He supposed he hadn't.

"Then how can you be sure doesn't?" the woman exclaimed, a sly grin dancing across her features.

To tell the truth, Ryou didn't know. He'd made most of his assumptions while in a fit of sorrow, a time he knew that was not the best for thinking things through. Bakura had never actually said that he didn't love Ryou. He'd told him to get out of his soul-room, and that he wasn't like the pharaoh. Ryou had judged by context. In truth, there was no convincing evidence that proved Bakura's lack of love. 

'None that disproved it either,' whispered a corner of Ryou's mind. With a shake of his head, he angrily disposed of the thought. He might as well give Bakura the benefit of the doubt. 

The stout woman laughed, busily polishing a glass. 

"Even so," began Ryou, his misgivings nowhere near resolved, "I don't think he ever did love me, he was only playing with my emotions. Like I was a toy," Ryou was surprised how bitter his voice sounded, even to his own ears. 

"I know I can never care for a person who uses my pain as a source of entertainment. It's almost as if he is incapable of truly loving someone, only using them for his own amusement". Ryou suddenly felt vaguely nauseous, though from the tea, the atmosphere, or the torrent of questions berating his mind, he couldn't tell. 

"Sweetie, my Momma once told me that men see love as a game. That the last thing on their mind is commitment, and all they really want is a little fun, even at the expense of another's feelings". Shaking her head, she gently set down the glass, replacing it with another, once again absorbed in her work. 

Ryou sobbed once, his eyes involuntarily spilling over. Before he could move, he found himself confronted by the woman's chubby fingers as a delicate handkerchief was thrust under his face. 

"I learned later on that my mother was wrong." Continued the owner of the fingers, her voice dropping to a comforting tone. "Men have feelings just like you and I. Love doesn't come naturally to them. It's even harder for them to understand that they aren't the center of the universe," She said with a low chuckle. "You just need to sort out the ones who are willing to face their emotions and learn a little bit of compassion." Ryou nodded, blowing his nose furiously in the lacy handkerchief. 

"Any man who can follow his heart instead of his ego is worth chasing after in my book. Guys like that may be rare, but if you find one, never let 'im go. Or drop by to give me their number." Now it was Ryou's turn to chuckle, though it came out as more of an amused hiccup. 

"Besides, if this boy of yours doesn't love you the way you are, he's not worth your time. Men who toy with us girls aren't even worth remembering. Tell him how you feel, and if that isn't good enough, he can go fuck himself. You're the one that matters." The woman's rough hand ruffled Ryou's silver hair, then returned to the never-ending task of cleaning. It was all Ryou could do not to break down again.

Not that he had much to break down in. The beautiful handkerchief had been reduced to a wadded mass of lace and snot. The silver-haired boy guiltily eyed the filthy lump on the counter, hands returning to his cup. As if sensing his distress, the woman turned around, abandoning her task.

"No need to worry about that Dear. You've got enough on your plate. Worrying about an old lady's hankie isn't going to help your state of mind." 

"But what am I going to do?" asked Ryou, not referring to the handkerchief.

"Just because you've decided you love him doesn't mean he'll automatically feel the same. He'll have to figure out what he feels for himself. Men don't like being told what to do. But if he's really that important, you'll be willing to wait for him for as long as it takes. A year or a lifetime, it shouldn't matter. Love is based on patience. Believe me, you're going to need a lot of it."

She was interrupted by call for more beer at the other end of the bar. With a sigh, she excused herself, disappearing into the crowd. 

Ryou sipped his tea shakily, sniffling occasionally when snot threatened to add itself to the chai concoction. Compulsively sipping, he let his mind mull over the woman's words.

_'Maybe she's right,' _he thought, allowing himself some optimism. _'It's not exactly natural for a former Tomb-Robber,' _he paused to stir his tea, _'… or anyone, for that matter, to feel love and accept it immediately.' _

_'Yet you did,' _another part of his mind argued. _'You've known about and confronted your emotions, and what you found was love. If Bakura felt even the slightest inkling of what you'd felt, he'd have done the same.' _

Angrily, Ryou shoved the thoughts from his mind. Yet his paranoia refused to be silenced.

'If you had separate bodies he'd pay a lot more attention to you. You can't expect him to see you as anything but a source of entertainment. As for a relationship, all you can offer him is words and feelings. Bakura wants sex. And you can't give it too him. So he's resorted to getting pleasure from your pain. You should be happy he's even paying attention to you.'

Ryou already knew that. That's why, in his conversation with Bakura, he'd brought up Yami and Yugi. 

' "_Yami and Yugi worked it out," ' _he'd said, referring to the spirit's separation from his host. The physical aspect wasn't really important to him, but if that's all that Bakura could imagine being worthwhile, Ryou had been willing to offer the alternative. He was willing to split their souls into separate bodies.

Not even that had been enough for the Spirit of the Ring. Bakura had refused his Hikari's offer; for pride or merely for the joy of watching Ryo suffer, the aforementioned boy didn't know. 

_'I just wish…'_ Ryou paused again, not quite sure where his train of thought was leading him. _'I wish I knew what to do.' _He finished lamely. 

_'No,' _he corrected, _'I… I'm not sure what I wish. I wish Bakura loved me. I wish I were everything he could ever need. I… I'm wishing for miracles.' _Silence followed, his mind blank.

'Yet… like the woman said, if I really love him, I'll be willing to wait for him. If he really means that much, I won't just give up because I'm frustrated or unsure. If I love him, none of that will matter.'

Which brought him to the inevitable question. Was Bakura worth it? Was the thought of being with him precious enough that he would be willing to wait, relying on his faith in Bakura and the strength of his own love to carry him through?

Concentrating, Ryou searched his soul. 

Opening his eyes, he smiled.

What he felt for Bakura was invaluable. Bakura himself was invaluable. Bakura was worth waiting for. He loved Bakura. So much that he was willing to undergo whatever tortures the Spirit put him through. Bakura was worth his pain, worth his tears. And though Ryou refused to let his Yami toy with him, but that didn't mean he had to stop loving him as well.

"I will wait will for you, Bakura, as long as it takes," Ryou said, enjoying the sound of the words, mixed with the uplifting feeling of his revelation. 

He was startled out of his reverie by a hand on his shoulder.

"Jesus Honey, I thought you'd left!" Came the woman's deep voice. Her worry filled glance directed his eyes to the hanging clock. 11:40.

"We closed ten minutes ago." She continued, grabbing up his drink and the tip in one smooth motion. "You're lucky I didn't accidentally lock you in. You'd have been stuck here all weekend." She said with an apprehensive smile. "You'd better get going; no doubt you've got a worried mother wondering where her darling has gone off to."

At the last remark, Ryou stiffened. His mother had never been part of his life, and his father always had too much on his mind to care about whether or not his son was home. 

_'Not that I mind,' _came his mind's defensive lie. Besides, his father was not an issue right now. Bakura was what mattered.

Once out the door, Ryou gave a short bow of apology, then tried to thank the woman for her help. She shrugged it off nonchalantly while securing the bar's many locks.

"I'm not just here to serve drinks, Sweetie." The plump woman gave Ryou's cheek a short pinch. "Besides, who can resist helping out a cutie like you with their troubles?" She added with a wink. With that, she turned on her heel and began her walk into the night.

The storm had abated, and the snow was falling gently as Ryou made his own way home. A single white flake landed delicately on his outstretched hand. 

_"They say that no two are the same…" _Ryou whispered, _"…but that doesn't mean they won't ever find their perfect match." _

With that thought, Ryou gave a small smile, and continued on his way home.

*******

A/N: Like it? If you did, praise to my Beta, ImmortalChaos. If it was bad, blame me! We both worked really hard on this, and I think it's my best (as well as longest) chapter yet. 

**ImmortalChaos hasn't posted anything yet, but once she does, go read her stuff! It's really really good. Like there's this one where… meh, I don't want to spoil it for all ya'll.**

**As for the "in regards to reviews" thingie, go ahead and forget it. Mindless praise, criticism, flames, or just random words in a review box, I don't care. Just review por favor.**


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